Letters and Seashells
by Cutebeekeeper
Summary: In My Blue Heaven, Dennis Abbot notices the seashell on Teresa Lisbon's desk. "It's a cowrie" she tells him. This is just a little musing about how that seashell came to be on her desk.


A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing anything of the fictional variety since college (which is like forever). Anyway, I always thought that when Dennis Abbot picked up that shell off of Lisbon's desk in My Blue Heaven, that it gave him the insight that the shell just might be from Jane. And then I began to wonder how it may have gotten to her desk... and since I personally love looking for shells when I go to the beach, I couldn't help but envision this little story.

I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to Entwifeincognito for her encouragement to actually publish this. :)

I hope you enjoy this little story. Reviews are welcome!

Disclaimer: You know the drill, I own NOTHING when it comes to The Mentalist - except my own thoughts! :)

 **Letters and Seashells**

 **Venezuela**

He rolled from his side to his back, opening one eye. His brain immediately registered the fact that it was quiet… the rain had stopped. The clock on the nightstand showed 5:18. He stretched and got up and peaked out through the curtain. No clouds. A hint of light in the eastern sky. It was going to be a fabulous day.

A fabulous day to head to the other side of the island to catch the sunrise! He had time to get to "his" spot before the sun came up. But he didn't have time to make eggs so he quickly jumped in the shower and got dressed, deciding to stop in to Abuela Maria's for a pastry and tea on his way. _Maria's. Marie's._ _So ironic,_ he thought.

As he walked down the road, his mind drifted back to Sacramento and Marie's; tea and coffee, bear claws and Teresa Lisbon. A smile played across his lips as he remembered one early morning, not unlike this one, when he went to Marie's with the intention of buying Teresa her very favorite coffee and a bear claw. He wanted to get back to the office before she arrived in order to surprise her, to see her smile. It was a bit of an apology actually, as she had been a bit grumpy about some ridiculous code of conduct rule he had broken the day before. He knew she had already forgiven him. Still, it wasn't a bad idea to pad the "good deed bank account." Besides, it really did make him happy when he could make her smile. And how he _did_ make her smile that morning! His little gesture of good had produced the exact result he was hoping for. It was so strange how warm and delighted he felt when she smiled at him in the particular way she did that morning. It was one of her rarer smiles, the one that lit up the world and made her emerald green eyes twinkle. And the one that let him know how much she valued their friendship. Valued him.

His own smile faded now. Oh, he really did miss her. But there was nothing he could do about that now, and so he decided he would not dwell on thoughts that would make him melancholy. He would enjoy the day. And he would write Teresa a letter tonight sharing with her the joy of watching the sunrise. He could still make her smile. Yes. That was a great idea! His smile returned with a vengeance as he opened the door to Abuela Maria's.

"Buenas días, Senor!" He was greeted by Abuela Maria, the shop's owner. Everyone called her Grandma Maria because she _was_ everybody's grandma. A kind older woman, around 70 he guessed, who just doted on everyone as if they were one of her own family. She loved everyone and they loved her. "I no see you for a while, senor. You have been well, no?" "Buenas días, Abuela Maria! Yes, it's been a while since I've been here. Just busy _." Doing what,_ he wondered. "And yes, I am well thank you. Today I am going to Playa Hermosa to watch the sun come up. " Maria smiled and nodded her head, knowing that was a lovely thing to be doing today.

He appeared to be her first customer. Good. He would have first pick of her fine pastries. After looking at everything, he was about to settle on the apple strudel thinking how global that was: an American in Venezuela ordering a German pastry, when a woman appeared from the back speaking in Spanish a mile a minute.

The woman stopped her verbal flow abruptly, seeing there was a customer with luscious blonde curls. "Oh, lo siento.", she said to Maria, still staring at him. Maria turned to her sister, "No problemo." She then turned back to face him. "This is my sister, Teresa. She is here to visit from Caracas. She has a shop also and is here to show me new, uh, pasteles ("pastries", Teresa interrupted) she's been making. Maybe I will make too – if people like them." She then proceeded to introduce him to her sister. Eventually he realized that the two women were silent and just looking at him curiously. His ears had stopped working at "Teresa". He couldn't believe this coincidental twist of fate. Wow. What were the odds? He willed his brain and his mouth to function in the moment again. "Hello, my name is Patrick Jane. Pleasure to meet you," he said to Teresa with his warmest smile. The two women stared for a moment longer then looked at each other, breaking into laughter. _Well, what was that about_ , he wondered. "I already tell her your name, senor. Your mind went somewhere, no?"

 _Oh. Well, yes it did. To a lovely brunette with emerald eyes. Hmmm…_ He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to tell them that so he just went with "I'm sorry" and his best sheepish look.

He decided it was time to make his order and leave. "I'll have the apple strudel and a cup of tea to go," he said. "Wait," said Teresa. "You must try one of my new pastries. They are just ready. I will get you one." Just as Maria had bagged up his strudel and was putting the lid on his to-go cup, Teresa came back out with a tray of pastries. "Here, Senor Jane. Please try one. For free. They are called bear claws in English, I think." He looked down at the pastries and sure enough they were bear claws. It was his turn to go silent and stare…. at the pastries. _What? No way. Why? Because, well, just no. Was this a dream? No... it's real enough_. The smell of the fresh bear claws assured him this was reality. He became aware that his mouth was open and his eyes were obviously bulging a little.

"What is wrong, senor? You don't like? They are not called bear claws?" asked Teresa. "Oh yes, they are bear claws," he replied as he regained composure and glanced up at Teresa then whispered, "They are beautiful, just beautiful." More staring. Him at the bear claws and the women at him. After a few moments, Teresa spoke again, "please just try one. You will like it." Both women smiled at him and he gladly accepted the pastry, putting it in the bag with his strudel. "Gracias," and with that he walked out the door.

He tried to make sense of the alignment of the cosmos today. OK, he didn't believe in that stuff but it certainly seemed that something was trying to tell him something. _Something_. _Well, what day was it? No, not her birthday_. Not any anniversary date of any kind that he could think of either. Abuela Maria's _(Marie's),_ Teresa, Bear Claws - three things pointing him to her had to be some kind of a sign. He knew it was really just coincidence, but it was the weirdest coincidence ever. Perhaps he would watch the sun come up, eat his pastry, drink his tea and think about _her_. A lot. Because now there was no way she would be leaving his thoughts any time soon. And he would try to remember the happy times and not be sad.

 _Perfect_. Just in time to climb up to "his" spot on the rocks and catch the sun coming up. As he sipped his tea, the first glimmer of the sun appeared above the horizon. It had been a long time since he had done this, and he pledged to do it more often. It was all so glorious. Sun and sky above, wide open sea in front of him, the waves crashing to his left. And to his right, Playa Hermosa stretched out for a hundred yards or so. Living up to its name, this beach was beautiful. There was another outcropping of rocks at the other end, creating a quiet cove where the waves gently kissed its pristine sands.

He reached for the strudel but opted for the bear claw instead. The mere sight of it evoked a strong pang of loss. A flood of emotions flowed over him as he thought about all he had lost: his wife and daughter, his CBI family, his very best friend. Everything he cared about had been destroyed, and he was the cause of it. And now he was here, in paradise, and so alone. It wasn't like he didn't know anyone here; it's just that he never cared to establish a close relationship with anyone. He looked out to the ocean again trying to rid those sad thoughts from his mind. A small fishing boat was heading out for the day accompanied by a flock of noisy chattering gulls, and he wondered what it would be like to work as a fisherman. Maybe he should find a trade to keep himself busy. He didn't need the money, but maybe he didn't need so much free time either.

His stomach reminded him that he was hungry, and he looked again at the bear claw in his hand. This time, however, a happy memory came to him. It was from that same morning back in Sacramento he had thought about earlier. The breakfast in Lisbon's office; just the two of them. The rest of the team wasn't in yet and they both got silly about something and couldn't stop laughing even when Rigsby showed up and gave them an odd look as he passed by her window. In fact, that made them laugh all the harder. Jeez, it was so amazing that the mere memory of Teresa's laughter could lift him out of his funk. Then he began to envision Lisbon sitting with him here on "their" rock sharing the pastries and of course, she would have her cup of coffee. Perhaps they would get silly and laugh or maybe they would sit in silence, in awe of the beauty of the morning. Maybe they would make plans to go to the market on their way home. _Well, needn't go down THAT road_. So maybe she didn't live here with him but was just visiting and so he would show her all the fascinating sites and take her to the cantina and they would drink tequila, maybe she would even dance with him. Maybe they could walk along the beach and _maybe_ she would let him hold her hand. _Stop it._ With that thought he turned to look down on the beach. It was low tide, and the sun reflecting off of something lying in the sand caught his eye. He decided to go investigate, pretending he and Teresa were going to solve the mystery, having fun with each of them guessing as to what the object was and giving each other a hard time for their guess. When he was close enough to see what the object was, he actually yelled out loud "I was right, Lisbon! A shell!" _Okay…_ He looked around quickly to find no one had heard him. _So that was a pretty vivid daydream_. Shaking his head, he decided he needed to be more careful about that sort of thing.

He picked up the shell. It was gorgeous. It was perfect. It was a cowrie. This he knew, because he used to have a book of seashells that he and Charlotte would look through when they came back from their great shell treasure hunts in California. He smiled with happiness at the sweet memory of his daughter. Being on the island had given him a lot of time to think, to relax and to allow some good memories of his family to return. He was beginning to believe that the old adage "time heals all wounds" was perhaps actually true. Not that he would ever forget Red John or what he had done to them… but at least exacting his revenge by killing the man meant he didn't have to look over his shoulder any more or worry that Lisbon would be his next victim. It had given him some peace of mind, but it had also led him to this solitary life. One he wasn't sure he was content with any more.

That idea turned his thoughts back to focus on Teresa and the shell in his hand. Then he smiled his million-watt smile and his eyes twinkled. He knew he could never really hope to have Teresa here but he could still share his paradise with her. He had never dared to send photographs fearing what might happen if they were intercepted by law enforcement. But this he could do. He would send her this shell! And with that, he headed off in search of a box and packing material.

At the post office, he was warmly greeted by the ladies who worked there. "Hi! How much to send this?" He held up the package. He was a bit out of breath as he had run practically all the way there. And he was just so happy, he couldn't quit smiling and he didn't even bother to try to speak in Spanish. The post office ladies were wide-eyed at his exuberant behavior and began to whisper to one another, never taking their eyes off him as he paid. "What?" he asked. "You are so happy Senor Jane. Why?" "Because. Because this is going to make my dear friend smile!" he replied joyfully. As he left, he heard one of the ladies say "Es una mujer". "Si. Una mujer," agreed the other. _Yes, it is a woman_. _Had he been that obvious?_ He shook his head. It didn't matter. He was going to make her smile.

 **Washington State**

She headed home after another incredibly "exciting" day as Sheriff of Canon River. Let's see… there had been a speeding ticket issued, she had looked at ALL the pens in the office supply catalog comparing prices and functionality before choosing which ones to order, and she had poured over the cold case file _again._ _Definitely a day to remember_ , she thought sarcastically.

It's not that she hated her new life. After all, it was a nice town, the surrounding mountain scenery was beautiful, and the folks that lived here were really very pleasant. She and her colleagues were respected. It's just that it _wasn't_ the CBI, and she missed her old team though she was grateful that Wayne and Grace were close enough to come visit her occasionally. She missed Cho and she missed _him_. She missed Patrick Jane more than anyone. And she never would have guessed how much. But he was her partner, her friend and nobody knew her better. Not that she ever told him a lot about herself, but he just seemed to know her in a way she couldn't explain. Just like she knew him in a way she couldn't explain.

As she drove, her thoughts shifted to thinking about how many times he had annoyed her. In the beginning it was real annoyance, but as their years together passed, she began to feign annoyance for the sake of keeping up appearances. She smiled as she remembered a particular case where Jane had found a CEO of a company particularly "irksome," to use one of _his_ words. Jane had insulted and belittled the man at the crime scene of his murdered wife, right in front of the media. The CEO of course made a big scene about his treatment to the DA, and Bertram had gotten on her case for letting her consultant get so out of hand. Of course Jane had been right, and the insulting had caused the CEO to cough up the piece of information they needed to identify the killer. Case closed in record time. Nonetheless, she had had to reprimand him, (well, he really did step over the boundary far into disrespectful territory, and it had made her cringe at the time). She didn't have to tell him, but by the end of the day she was sure Jane knew she had forgiven him. And the next morning she had arrived at the office to find Jane seated on her couch, tea in hand, and a piping hot coffee and a bear claw from Marie's sitting on her desk. She was hungry and she needed caffeine. She always had to smile at his impeccable timing with such things… it was uncanny how the man could do that. He got up as soon as he saw her and moved to pull her chair out for her when she went to her desk. He sat in the chair across from her and they began to talk. Somewhere along the way it turned silly and they started to laugh and couldn't stop. They were carrying on in that manner when Rigsby arrived and looked in her office giving them the odd look that only Rigsby could give. That made them laugh even harder. God, how she loved it when Jane laughed like that and looked at her like that. All traces of sadness and darkness were gone and pure joy overtook his countenance. That always made her so happy and gave her hope that one day he could be like that most of the time. _Maybe he was like that now_.

As she pulled into the garage her smiled faded and her thoughts turned wistful. She didn't get out of the car, but continued to sit there instead. And then she began to cry. So much loss. The CBI shut down, her team scattered. Not being able to see their faces everyday hurt like hell. Especially _his_ face. "He is alive," she repeated over and over to herself, trying to focus on that one bright spot – after all, his letters to her confirmed that. But she couldn't stop crying, she would probably never see him again. Good God, she had to get a grip because this wasn't like her. It had been over a year now. She _had_ to get a grip. So she pulled herself together and went inside to make herself some dinner. A frozen pizza would do and a glass of wine. " _Not pizza and beer with her CBI team, but as close as it can get",_ she thought with a sigh. She put the pizza in the oven, lit the fireplace not because it was that cold but because it made her feel cozy, and poured herself a glass of wine. She wondered what Jane was doing for dinner. Was he alone? Maybe he had made friends and was enjoying a meal with them. She hoped so. Maybe he was in love. _Hopping off that train_. She imagined what it would be like to actually visit him and see his island. She smiled. _Maybe they would go to a nice restaurant and dine on a patio under colorful lights. Maybe they would engage in banter and laughter like they used to. Maybe they would dance._ Her smile dimmed. _But they couldn't – maybe ever_. She didn't even know where he was.

Eventually the oven timer went off indicating the pizza was ready. She decided she would eat in the living room tonight in front of the fireplace and read Jane's letters. She brought the pizza in and set in on the trivet she had placed on the coffee table. She returned to the kitchen to get her glass and the bottle of wine. She would drink the whole bottle and go to bed, perhaps crying herself to sleep. But before she sat down, she remembered that she hadn't gone to her mailbox yet. _Well, big deal. Probably just bills and junk mail_. She would get it later.

While she was eating, she became mesmerized by the fire. She shuddered at the memory of Jane and the dark flame of revenge that burned in his eyes when he was totally focused on his hunt for Red John. It always scared her to see him like that. WAY more than she ever let on. She wondered if he had felt better for getting his revenge, for killing the monster that took his family. " _Well, at least it's better knowing the serial killer will never kill again, and, truthfully, his demise did save the taxpayers of California a lot of money",_ she rationalized aloud. But it's not what she would have preferred. If she had gotten her way, she would know where Jane was. Maybe he would be in jail. Or maybe he would be sitting here sharing pizza and wine with her. Truth be told, though, she couldn't see that a jury would have found him not guilty if he had murdered Red John, and she couldn't bear the thought of him in prison for the rest of his life. _Better that he's free somewhere._

She finished her pizza and poured herself another glass of wine, daydreaming again of what she and Jane would do on his island. _Okay, THOSE thoughts had to stop._ She took her plate to the kitchen, grabbed the box of Jane's letters and refilled her wine glass. " _Don't forget the mail",_ the voice inside her head reminded her. _Fine_. She put down her glass and took the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it around her shoulders before heading outside.

She opened her mailbox and saw only a small package. _Great, the mailman made a mistake again. This is probably meant for one of the neighbors_. But as she pulled it out she saw the familiar handwriting and she swore her heart did a small somersault. She smiled. It was from Jane! Well, it wasn't his handwriting. The envelopes were never written in his handwriting. But it was certainly that of the "mail angel," as she had come to call his mysterious accomplice. She remembered with 100% clarity when she had received Jane's first letter. There wasn't a return address but when she opened it and saw _his_ handwriting, she had been thrilled beyond measure. He told her he was safe, was somewhere he couldn't be extradited from, and in a place he thought he could call home. But he wouldn't tell her where he was because he wanted to keep her safe and give her plausible deniability. She had rolled her eyes and shook her head when she read that. Then he promised her that he would always write her. And now he had apparently sent her a gift. She wanted to run, but she casually walked back up the sidewalk to her door lest any of her neighbors see their sheriff behaving oddly. But her heart was racing. Once inside, she sat back down on the couch and tore off the outer wrapping. She opened the box and saw a neatly folded paper resting on top of some packing material. She unfolded the paper. It was a letter. _Bonus!_ She would read it later. She just really wanted to see what was in the box.

It was a seashell. One of the most beautiful she had ever seen. It was perfect and it was, well, just gorgeous. _Kind of like the man himself_. She just imagined for a moment that she and Jane had been walking down the beach together and saw this shell as just a shining object from far away and they had begun a competition to see who could guess what it was. She rolled her eyes because, of course, Jane had guessed correctly. She laughed as that little scene played out in her mind. She couldn't believe how happy this gift made her, and she smiled. Not an ordinary smile. It was a crazy huge smile.

Then she shook her head a little, bit her lip and turned her attention towards the letter.

 _Lisbon,_

 _I woke up early this morning and decided to go to a special place I found. A place where I can sit alone and watch the sunrise. It has rained here for the last 3 days and stopped sometime during the night. Anyway, the spot is really beautiful and serene, on some rocks that rise up from the beach. I think that you would enjoy seeing the sun come up from here. (Of course, I would make sure you had a perfect cup of coffee and a bear claw because I know you wouldn't enjoy it if you were sleepy and grumpy.)_

 _The sea was at low tide when the sun came up, and from my vantage point on top of the rocks I saw the sun glinting off something on the beach. I decided to go take a looksee. It turned out to be this gorgeous seashell. It's called a cowrie._

 _Since I can't send you a picture of this paradise, I thought I could at least share a little bit of it with you by sending you this shell. It's probably a crazy thought, but maybe someday I will get to show you the exact spot where I found it._

 _I hope that this seashell will make you smile. Not quite a bear claw, but it will last longer._

 _Miss you._

 _u no hoo_

She must have read his letter a dozen times feeling like even from a distance he was still somehow able to read her mind, knowing when she needed a little cheering up. She only stopped reading it to admire her beautiful seashell again. She couldn't help but smile as she picked it up and caressed its smooth surface, amazed at its perfection, before feeling drowsy and placing it on the table. She lay down on the couch and marveled at the journey the shell had made: from somewhere in the ocean depths to a beach to Jane to her "mail angel" and finally to her in Canon River. _Did God orchestrate its journey, keeping it safe, keeping it from breaking?_ _Well, of course_. She prayed that God would do the same for Jane on his journey. She thought about her own journey. She even dared to hope to see him again. _Best not linger there too long._ She looked over at the shell again and smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning she took the cowrie to work with her and placed it on her desk, next to her baseball. And she smiled. All day.

 **The End**


End file.
